


Mr. Wickham Mends His Ways: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by NiennaDeSiguenza



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiennaDeSiguenza/pseuds/NiennaDeSiguenza
Summary: Elizabeth, amazed at such a glowing appraisal of Mr. Darcy's character, could not help but add: "he hardly seemed to treat you with generosity or kindness." Mr. Wickham replied: "I am ashamed to admit that his greeting yesterday was no less than I deserved. Both he and his father—my godfather —treated me most generously, and I repaid their generosity in the worst of ways."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Large parts of this story are taken directly from Jane Austen’s original novel. What happens the same as in the original I have left in Jane Austen’s words. I have chosen not to italicize or otherwise distinguish her writing from mine, as I find that it detracts from the reading experience, but I trust my readers will be able to tell easily enough what is copied, and what is new. As the story progresses, more and more should change, but even then, quite a lot will remain the same. What changes in my story is that Wickham, as the title suggests, “mends his ways”. No other characters change, except to the extent in which their actions or beliefs are in response to Wickham.

_(Pride and Prejudice chapters 15 and 16)_

Lydia's intention of walking to Meryton was not forgotten; every sister except Mary agreed to go with her; and Mr. Collins was to attend them, at the request of Mr. Bennet, who was most anxious to get rid of him, and have his library to himself; for thither Mr. Collins had followed him after breakfast; and there he would continue, nominally engaged with one of the largest folios in the collection, but really talking to Mr. Bennet, with little cessation, of his house and garden at Hunsford. Such doings discomposed Mr. Bennet exceedingly. In his library he had been always sure of leisure and tranquillity; and though prepared, as he told Elizabeth, to meet with folly and conceit in every other room of the house, he was used to be free from them there; his civility, therefore, was most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join his daughters in their walk; and Mr. Collins, being in fact much better fitted for a walker than a reader, was extremely pleased to close his large book, and go.

In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by _him_. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them.

But the attention of every lady was soon caught by a young man, whom they had never seen before, of most gentlemanlike appearance, walking with another officer on the other side of the way. The officer was the very Mr. Denny concerning whose return from London Lydia came to inquire, and he bowed as they passed. All were struck with the stranger's air, all wondered who he could be; and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretence of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming. His appearance was greatly in his favour; he had all the best part of beauty, a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation—a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street. On distinguishing the ladies of the group, the two gentlemen came directly towards them, and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. He was then, he said, on his way to Longbourn on purpose to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborated it with a bow, and was beginning to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, they were suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger, and Elizabeth happening to see the countenance of both as they looked at each other, was all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both changed colour, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, offered a bow—a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return with a touch to his hat. What could be the meaning of it?—It was impossible to imagine; it was impossible not to long to know.

In another minute, Mr. Bingley, but without seeming to have noticed what passed, took leave and rode on with his friend.

Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walked with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Philips’s house, and then made their bows, in spite of Miss Lydia's pressing entreaties that they should come in, and even in spite of Mrs. Philips's throwing up the parlour window and loudly seconding the invitation.

Mrs. Philips was always glad to see her nieces; and the two eldest, from their recent absence, were particularly welcome, and she was eagerly expressing her surprise at their sudden return home, which, as their own carriage had not fetched them, she should have known nothing about, if she had not happened to see Mr. Jones's shop-boy in the street, who told her that they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield because the Miss Bennets were come away, when her civility was claimed towards Mr. Collins by Jane's introduction of him. She received him with her very best politeness, which he returned with as much more, apologising for his intrusion, without any previous acquaintance with her, which he could not help flattering himself, however, might be justified by his relationship to the young ladies who introduced him to her notice. Mrs. Philips was quite awed by such an excess of good breeding; but her contemplation of one stranger was soon put to an end by exclamations and inquiries about the other, of whom, however, she could only tell her nieces what they already knew, that Mr. Denny had brought him from London, and that he was to have a lieutenant's commission in the ————————shire. She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed windows now except a few of the officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become "stupid, disagreeable fellows." Some of them were to dine with the Philipses the next day, and their aunt promised to make her husband call on Mr. Wickham, and give him an invitation also, if the family from Longbourn would come in the evening. This was agreed to, and Mrs. Philips protested that they would have a nice comfortable noisy game of lottery tickets, and a little bit of hot supper afterwards. The prospect of such delights was very cheering, and they parted in mutual good spirits. Mr. Collins repeated his apologies in quitting the room, and was assured with unwearying civility that they were perfectly needless.

As they walked home, Elizabeth related to Jane what she had seen pass between the two gentlemen; but though Jane would have defended either or both, had they appeared to be in the wrong, she could no more explain such behaviour than her sister.

Mr. Collins on his return highly gratified Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. Philips's manners and politeness. He protested that, except Lady Catherine and her daughter, he had never seen a more elegant woman; for she had not only received him with the utmost civility, but even pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to her before. Something, he supposed, might be attributed to his connection with them, but yet he had never met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.

As no objection was made to the young people's engagement with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins's scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton; and the girls had the pleasure of hearing, as they entered the drawing-room, that Mr. Wickham had accepted their uncle's invitation, and was then in the house.

When this information was given, and they had all taken their seats, Mr. Collins was at leisure to look around him and admire, and he was so much struck with the size and furniture of the apartment, that he declared he might almost have supposed himself in the small summer breakfast parlour at Rosings; a comparison that did not at first convey much gratification; but when Mrs. Philips understood from him what Rosings was, and who was its proprietor, when she had listened to the description of only one of Lady Catherine's drawing-rooms, and found that the chimney-piece alone had cost eight hundred pounds, she felt all the force of the compliment, and would hardly have resented a comparison with the housekeeper's room.

In describing to her all the grandeur of Lady Catherine and her mansion, with occasional digressions in praise of his own humble abode, and the improvements it was receiving, he was happily employed until the gentlemen joined them; and he found in Mrs. Philips a very attentive listener, whose opinion of his consequence increased with what she heard, and who was resolving to retail it all among her neighbours as soon as she could. To the girls, who could not listen to their cousin, and who had nothing to do but to wish for an instrument, and examine their own indifferent imitations of china on the mantelpiece, the interval of waiting appeared very long. It was over at last however. The gentlemen did approach; and when Mr. Wickham walked into the room, Elizabeth felt that she had neither been seeing him before, nor thinking of him since, with the smallest degree of unreasonable admiration. The officers of the ————————shire were in general a very creditable, gentlemanlike set, and the best of them were of the present party; but Mr. Wickham was as far beyond them all in person, countenance, air, and walk, as _they_ were superior to the broad-faced stuffy uncle Philips, breathing port wine, who followed them into the room.

Mr. Wickham was the happy man towards whom almost every female eye was turned, and Elizabeth was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a wet night, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.

With such rivals for the notice of the fair, as Mr. Wickham and the officers, Mr. Collins seemed to sink into insignificance; to the young ladies he certainly was nothing; but he had still at intervals a kind listener in Mrs. Philips, and was, by her watchfulness, most abundantly supplied with coffee and muffin.

When the card tables were placed, he had the opportunity of obliging her in return, by sitting down to whist.

"I know little of the game, at present," said he, "but I shall be glad to improve myself, for in my situation in life—” Mrs. Phillips was very thankful for his compliance, but could not wait for his reason.

Mr. Wickham did not play at whist, and, despite Lydia’s eager encouragement, he also declined to join the other table, where there was to be a game of lottery tickets, for, as he explained to Elizabeth “I have overindulged in games of chance in the past, and now find it wisest to abstain from them entirely.”

“Recognizing one’s weaknesses in a necessary and admirable step in the fight against temptation” intoned Mary.  Elizabeth was surprised to hear her sister, for she had not noticed that she was close enough to hear the conversation.  Though she thought she espied a similar emotion in the gentleman’s features, it was fleeting, and he replied with equanimity: “Indeed, I have found it to be so, Miss Mary.  But it does not follow that I should keep your from enjoying the game.” This last, directed to both of the ladies.

Elizabeth however found that she much preferred to converse with her new acquaintance than listen to Lydia making bets and exclaiming after prizes, and according replied:

“I am not nearly as fond of cards as my sister Lydia.  In fact, I have recently been accused of the most singular attribute of preferring reading to cards!  And it would not do for you to sit by yourself on your first evening in Meryton society.”

“As for me, although I do not wish to depreciate such pleasures as are enjoyed by the majority of society, I much prefer a book or an edifying conversation” said Mary.

 “I am much obliged” the gentleman replied.  “Are you then both great readers?”

The conversation continued for some time on the topic of books, on which Mr. Wickham spoke intelligently and with great knowledge, an ability that he attributed to the generosity of his late godfather, who had insured that he receive a gentleman’s education.  He even managed to engage Mary in the conversation.  Indeed, Elizabeth could not think of a time she had seen Mary so at ease while in company.  Impressed as she was with Mr. Wickham’s skills in conversation, what she chiefly wished to hear she could not hope to be told, the history of his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She dared not even mention that gentleman. Her curiosity however was unexpectedly relieved. When, and one point, Mary was called away by their aunt, Mr. Wickham began the subject himself. He inquired how far Netherfield was from Meryton; and, after receiving her answer, asked in a hesitating manner how long Mr. Darcy had been staying there.

"About a month," said Elizabeth; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, "He is a man of very large property in Derbyshire, I understand."

"Yes," replied Mr. Wickham;—"his estate there is a noble one. A clear ten thousand per annum. You could not have met with a person more capable of giving you certain information on that head than myself—for I have been connected with his family in a particular manner from my infancy."

Elizabeth could not but look surprised.

"You may well be surprised, Miss Bennet, at such an assertion, after seeing, as you probably might, the very cold manner of our meeting yesterday.—Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"

"As much as I ever wish to be," cried Elizabeth warmly.—"I have spent four days in the same house with him, and I think him very disagreeable."

"Perhaps I have known him too long to be impartial, but it pains me to hear such an opinion” said Wickham.  I have found him to always be a generous and honourable man, and opinion that I think is universally shared amongst his friends and acquaintances.  I believe your opinion of him would in general astonish.”

"Upon my word I say no more than you might hear in any house in the neighbourhood, except Netherfield. He is not at all liked in Hertfordshire. Everybody is disgusted with his pride. You will not find him more favourably spoken of by any one."

"I am sorry," said Wickham, after a short pause, "to hear that.  Though perhaps his reticence and imposing manners do not make him the easiest man to get to know, upon longer acquaintance he is invariably found to be liberal-minded, just, sincere, rational, honourable, and even agreeable.”

"I should take him, even on _my_ slight acquaintance, to be an ill-tempered man."

Wickham shook his head.  “I have never known him to be angry with anyone who did not deserve it.  He is liberal and generous,—he is known to give his money freely, to display hospitality, to assist his tenants, and relieve the poor.  He is the best of friends and the best of masters.  He has also great brotherly pride and affection, which makes him a very kind and careful guardian of his sister; and you will hear him generally cried up as the most attentive and best of brothers."

 "What sort of girl is Miss Darcy?"

He smiled sadly.—"She is amiable, though very shy.  As a child, she was affectionate and pleasing, and extremely fond of me.   Now she is a handsome girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and highly accomplished. Since her father's death, Mr. Darcy has been as much of a parent as a sibling to her, and has taken great care of her.  He is rightly very proud of his sister."

Elizabeth, astonished at such a glowing appraisal of Mr. Darcy’s character, could not help but add “He hardly seemed to treat _you_ with generosity or kindness.”

“I am ashamed to admit that his greeting yesterday was no less than I deserved.  Both he and his father—my godfather —treated me most generously, and I repaid their generosity in the worst of ways.”

Elizabeth found the interest of the subject increase, and though her imagination ran rampant, for what possibly could such a gentlemanly man as Wickham have done to think he deserved Mr. Darcy’s ill will? But the delicacy of it prevented further inquiry.  The conversation had already stretched the boundaries of propriety.

Mr. Wickham began to speak on more general topics, Meryton, the neighbourhood, the society, appearing highly pleased with all that he had yet seen, and speaking of the latter with gentle but very intelligible gallantry.

"It was the prospect of good society and honourable employment," he added, "which was my inducement to enter the ————————shire. I knew it to be a most respectable, agreeable corps, and my friend Denny tempted me further by his account of their present quarters, and the very great attentions and excellent acquaintances Meryton had procured them. Society, I own, is necessary to me. If left to myself, I dwell too much on mistakes of the past.”

The whist party soon afterwards breaking up, the players gathered round the other table.  Mr. Wickham and Elizabeth joined them, and Mr. Collins took his station between his cousin Elizabeth and Mrs. Philips.—The usual inquiries as to his success was made by the latter. It had not been very great; he had lost every point; but when Mrs. Philips began to express her concern thereupon, he assured her with much earnest gravity that it was not of the least importance, that he considered the money as a mere trifle, and begged that she would not make herself uneasy.

"I know very well, madam," said he, "that when persons sit down to a card table, they must take their chances of these things,—and happily I am not in such circumstances as to make five shillings any object. There are undoubtedly many who could not say the same, but thanks to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I am removed far beyond the necessity of regarding little matters."

Mr. Wickham's attention was caught; and after observing Mr. Collins for a few moments, he asked Elizabeth in a low voice whether her relation was very intimately acquainted with the family of De Bourgh.

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," she replied, "has very lately given him a living. I hardly know how Mr. Collins was first introduced to her notice, but he certainly has not known her long."

"You know of course that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Lady Anne Darcy were sisters; consequently that she is aunt to the present Mr. Darcy."

"No, indeed, I did not.—I knew nothing at all of Lady Catherine's connections. I never heard of her existence till the day before yesterday.  Though since then I have heard a great deal.  Mr. Collins, speaks highly both of Lady Catherine and her daughter; but from some particulars that he has related of her ladyship, I suspect his gratitude misleads him, and that in spite of her being his patroness, she is an arrogant, conceited woman. But perhaps I am as mistaken in her character as I have been in her nephew’s?"

"No, her character I believe you have drawn quite faithfully," replied Wickham with a smile; "I have not seen her for many years, but I very well remember that I never liked her, and that her manners were dictatorial and insolent.”

Elizabeth felt her confidence in her judgement somewhat restored, and they continued talking together, with mutual satisfaction till supper put an end to cards, and gave the rest of the ladies their share of Mr. Wickham's attentions. There could be no conversation in the noise of Mrs. Philips's supper party, but his manners recommended him to everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully. Elizabeth went away with her head full of him. She could think of nothing but of Mr. Wickham, and of what he had told her, all the way home; but there was not time for her even to mention his name as they went, for neither Lydia nor Mr. Collins were once silent. But the topic of Mr. Wickham was not entirely ignored, for Lydia herself mention him.

“It is a shame that Wickham turned out to be such a dull fellow.  I was quite prepared to like him prodigiously, but then he would not play cards! How very prudish of him! I shall have to scold Denny for bringing him here.”

Mary, who up until then had been ignoring the conversation in favour of a book, disagreed.  “I think it shows a great moral fibre!  There are more important things in life than cards!”

Lydia laughed at this. “La! You can have him then, Mary, though he is much too handsome for you!”

The rest of the ride home was uneventful.  Lydia, tired of the topic of a gentleman who showed her no special attention, talked incessantly of lottery tickets, of the fish she had lost and the fish she had won; and Mr. Collins, in describing the civility of Mr. and Mrs. Philips, protesting that he did not in the least regard his losses at whist, enumerating all the dishes at supper, and repeatedly fearing that he crowded his cousins, had more to say than he could well manage before the carriage stopped at Longbourn House.


	2. Chapter 2

_(Pride and Prejudice chapter 17)_

Elizabeth related to Jane the next day what had passed between Mr. Wickham and herself. Jane listened with evident pleasure. “It shows quite a good character in Mr. Wickham, to be willing to admit past wrongdoing, and to endeavour to improve his ways.  But you do not seem happy with his story?”

“It shows a great deal of goodness in Wickham, I dare say, but not quite so much in Mr. Darcy!”

“To the contrary! You said that Mr. Wickham had only good to say of him, did you not?  Do you not believe him?”

“I believe Mr. Wickham to be sincere, but perhaps too ready to forgive.  Mr. Darcy was uncommonly rude to him, which only confirms my ill opinion of him: he is proud and resentful.  Why he himself admitted, nay, owned with satisfaction, that his good opinion once lost, is lost forever.  I cannot believe that Mr. Wickham could have done anything so bad as to deserve Mr. Darcy’s disdain, well after he has shown proof of regretting his actions, and improving his character.”

“So you criticize Mr. Wickham for forgiving, and you criticize Mr. Darcy for failing to do so.  It would seem that you are determined to find fault.”

“And you, dear Jane, are determined to see no fault in anyone!”

“But Lizzy, in this case I do think you are being too severe.  You forget that Mr. Darcy has not perhaps had the chance to see that Mr. Wickham regrets his past actions. And in any case, if Mr. Wickham does not blame Mr. Darcy, I cannot see how we should.  And think also of his close friendship with Mr. Bingley.  Does that not put him in a favourable light? Surely his intimate friends would better understand his character than such recent acquaintances as are we.”

 “Think well of him, if you will, but I reserve the right to keep my opinion that while both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Wickham are very pleasant gentlemen, their friend Mr. Darcy is quite disagreeable.   It would seem that his greatest talent is in securing the loyalty of men so unlike him.”

The two young ladies were summoned from the shrubbery, where this conversation passed, by the arrival of one of the very persons of whom they had been speaking; Mr. Bingley and his sisters came to give their personal invitation for the long-expected ball at Netherfield, which was fixed for the following Tuesday. The two ladies were delighted to see their dear friend again, called it an age since they had met, and repeatedly asked what she had been doing with herself since their separation. To the rest of the family they paid little attention; avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible, saying not much to Elizabeth, and nothing at all to the others. They were soon gone again, rising from their seats with an activity which took their brother by surprise, and hurrying off as if eager to escape from Mrs. Bennet’s civilities.

The prospect of the Netherfield ball was extremely agreeable to every female of the family. Mrs. Bennet chose to consider it as given in compliment to her eldest daughter, and was particularly flattered by receiving the invitation from Mr. Bingley himself, instead of a ceremonious card. Jane pictured to herself a happy evening in the society of her two friends, and the attentions of their brother; and Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr. Wickham, and of seeing a confirmation of everything in Mr. Darcy’s look and behaviour.  Though she also though with some misgiving, that perhaps Mr. Wickham would take it upon himself to not force his company upon Mr. Darcy.  But surely he would not be so solicitous of Mr. Darcy’s comfort, even if he did claim all the fault for their estrangement!  The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended less on any single event, or any particular person, for though they each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball was, at any rate, a ball. And even Mary could assure her family that she had no disinclination for it.

“While I can have my mornings to myself,” said she, “it is enough—I think it is no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement, especially in the company of good people, as desirable for everybody.”

Elizabeth’s spirits were so high on this occasion, that though she did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley’s invitation, and if he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening’s amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to dance.

“I am by no means of the opinion, I assure you,” said he, “that a ball of this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, can have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins in the course of the evening; and I take this opportunity of soliciting yours, Miss Elizabeth, for the two first dances especially, a preference which I trust my cousin Jane will attribute to the right cause, and not to any disrespect for her.”

Elizabeth felt herself completely taken in. She had fully proposed being engaged by Mr. Wickham for those very dances; and to have Mr. Collins instead! Her liveliness had never been worse timed. There was no help for it, however. Mr. Wickham’s happiness and her own were perforce delayed a little longer, and Mr. Collins’s proposal accepted with as good a grace as she could. She was not the better pleased with his gallantry from the idea it suggested of something more. It now first struck her, that she was selected from among her sisters as worthy of being mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors. The idea soon reached to conviction, as she observed his increasing civilities toward herself, and heard his frequent attempt at a compliment on her wit and vivacity; and though more astonished than gratified herself by this effect of her charms, it was not long before her mother gave her to understand that the probability of their marriage was extremely agreeable to her. Elizabeth, however, did not choose to take the hint, being well aware that a serious dispute must be the consequence of any reply. Mr. Collins might never make the offer, and till he did, it was useless to quarrel about him.

If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the younger Miss Bennets would have been in a very pitiable state at this time, for from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton once. No aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after—the very shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy. Even Elizabeth might have found some trial of her patience in weather which totally suspended the improvement of her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia.


	3. Chapter 3

_(Pride and Prejudice chapter 18a)_

When Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield, and looked in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, she began to fear that her misgivings had been well founded.  This fear was confirmed by Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile, “I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here.”

Elizabeth’s displeasure in Mr. Darcy was so sharpened by her disappointment, that it was only the memory of Jane’s words that allowed her to respond with civility to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make.  Wickham clearly thought of Mr. Darcy with great regard, and not knowing the particulars, it would hardly be fair to judge the man for something that Wickham did not.  She did however reserve the right to continue to disapprove of his actions since entering the neighbourhood, and turned quickly to Mr. Bingley, whom she was much happier to see.  These necessary greetings accomplished, she spotted Charlotte Lucas, whom she had not seen for a week, and recounted with great enjoyment the oddities of her cousin, pointed him out to her particular notice. Then came the first two dance: they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn, apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from him was ecstasy.

She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those dances were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of mind; Charlotte tried to console her:

“I dare say you will find him very agreeable.”

“You are the third person to hope that I find him so. If only he were to show any desire of being seen as such!  If it were only Jane, I would be quite happy to continue in my determination to hate him, but I find the opinions of Mr. Wickham, and of you, my dear friend, less easy to ignore.  But though I might feel obliged to not hate him, it does not follow that I find him agreeable.”

“Mr. Wickham?” Charlotte asked with evident surprise.  At that moment the dancing recommenced and, as Darcy approached to claim her hand, Charlotte had only the time to cautioning her in a whisper, not to be a simpleton and to appear unpleasant to a man of such consequence. Elizabeth made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and reading in her neighbours’ looks, their equal amazement in beholding it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with:—“It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples.”

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

“Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent.”

“Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?”

“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible.”

“Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?”

“Both,” replied Elizabeth archly; “for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb.”

“This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,” said he. “How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly.”

“I must not decide on my own performance.”

He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist the temptation, added, “When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.”

The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner said, “Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends—whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain.”

“He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship,” replied Elizabeth with emphasis, “and clearly regrets it greatly.”

“Wickham, regret?” Darcy asked with some derision.

“Yes indeed.  He spoke much higher of you that you of him.”  Elizabeth saw surprise flash across his usually serious countenance, but he made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. At that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.

“I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley) shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy:—but let me not interrupt you, sir. You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me.”

The latter part of this address was scarcely heard by Darcy; but Sir William’s allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly, and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley and Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly, he turned to his partner, and said, “Sir William’s interruption has made me forget what we were talking of.”

“I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have interrupted two people in the room who had less to say for themselves. We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine.”

“What think you of books?” said he, smiling.

Thinking back to the pleasant conversation she had had not long ago with a different gentleman on that very subject, she almost acquiesed, if only to compare Darcy’s views unfavourably with Wickham’s, but his smile vexed her, and she did not want to give him the satisfaction.

 “Books—oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings.”

“I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions.”

“No—I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else.”

“The present always occupies you in such scenes—does it?” said he, with a look of doubt.

“Yes, always,” she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared by her suddenly exclaiming, “I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. Do you not believe in the ability of people to change?”

“It is much more common to find an affectation of change, than any real improvement of character.”

“And so you deem any appearance of change to be an affectation?”

“I should hope I would recognize real change if I were to see it, but I have yet to have the pleasure.”

“Is it not possible then that you have seen it, and not recognized it as such?”

“It is always possible to judge in error, but I take great care not to.  May I ask to what these questions tend?”

“Merely to the illustration of your character,” said she, endeavouring to shake off her gravity. “I am trying to make it out.”

“And what is your success?”

She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. The difference between the accounts I hear and my own observations puzzle me exceedingly.”

“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess to easily make friends with every person I meet.  I do not perform well for strangers.  I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character on such a short acquaintance, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either.”

“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”

“I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,” he coldly replied. She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence; and on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy’s breast there was a tolerably powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed at least part of his anger against his own lacking social abilities.

Elizabeth sought her eldest sister, who met her with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. Elizabeth instantly read her feelings, and at that moment all confusion over Darcy, gave way before the hope of Jane’s being in the fairest way for happiness.  She listened with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained of Mr. Bingley’s regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last partner she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them, and for the second time that evening Charlotte was prevented from quizzing her friend on the subject of Mr. Wickham.  Elizabeth’s cousin told her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make a most important discovery.

“I have found out,” said he, “by a singular accident, that there is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours of the house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would have thought of my meeting with, perhaps, a nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh in this assembly! I am most thankful that the discovery is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going to do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total ignorance of the connection must plead my apology.”

“You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy!”

“Indeed I am. I shall entreat his pardon for not having done it earlier. I believe him to be Lady Catherine’s _nephew_. It will be in my power to assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se’nnight.”

Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme, assuring him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either side; and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance. Mr. Collins listened to her with the determined air of following his own inclination, and, when she ceased speaking, replied thus:

“My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world in your excellent judgement in all matters within the scope of your understanding; but permit me to say, that there must be a wide difference between the established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate the clergy; for, give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom—provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice, which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself.” And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words “apology,” “Hunsford,” and “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.” It vexed her to see him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, replied with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not discouraged from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy’s contempt seemed abundantly increasing with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr. Collins then returned to Elizabeth.

“I have no reason, I assure you,” said he, “to be dissatisfied with my reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention. He answered me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment of saying that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine’s discernment as to be certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was really a very handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with him.”

Mr. Collins was thankfully called away then for his dance with his cousin Mary, and Charlotte was finally able to satisfy her curiosity.

“Did you say that Mr. Wickham praised Mr. Darcy to you?  It is curious after their greeting last week.”

“Curious in the extreme! But Mr. Wickham claims that Mr. Darcy is the best of men, and that he has earned any ill will Mr. Darcy shows him.   I do not know the particulars, he did not offer them and I could hardly ask, but it seems unlikely that he could do something so bad as to not deserve even the merest courtesy. Mr. Darcy was unpardonably rude to him!”

“Perhaps he was, but you are judging an entire relationship on one encounter, and as Mr. Wickham himself does not think less of him for it, perhaps neither should you.  He has certainly been nothing but civil to you this evening.  He did not fall enchanted with your beauty as soon as he set eyes upon you, and that is a grave sin indeed, but do you have any other real reason to dislike him so?”

At this point the present dance ended, and Mr. Collins returned, and although his company was as ridiculous and irksome as ever, Elizabeth was not entirely sorry of his presence, for it forced the conversation to return to less personal topics, largely surrounding the magnanimity of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.  As his prattling did not necessitate much more than the occasional murmur of agreement, most of which Charlotte supplied, turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley; and the train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth to, made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane.


	4. Chapter 4

_ (Pride and Prejudice chapter 18b) _

Her happiness did not last, as it seemed that all of her other family members were determined to embarrass her. At supper her mother talked, with much animation, of nothing else but her expectation that Jane would soon be married to Mr. Bingley.  The advantages of such a match were loudly enumerated; the most prominently featured being Mr. Bingley’s wealth, and the probability that Jane’s marrying so greatly must throw her sisters in the way of other rich men.  Elizabeth tried in vain to dampen her mother’s enthusiasm, or at least persuade her to express it less audibly, for she perceived that the chief of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her mother only scolded her for being nonsensical.

“What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say nothing he may not like to hear.”

“For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be for you to offend Mr. Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing!”

Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to a composed and steady gravity.

The end of supper brought no reprieve to Elizabeth’s mortification, for singingwas talked of, and Mary, ignoring Elizabeth’s many significant looks and silent entreaties, determined to exhibit her talents, singing not one, but two songs.  Her performance was only ended by her father’s interference, in the form of a speech she found almost as regrettable as Mary’s singing: “That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.”  After this followed Mr. Collins’ simultaneously supercilious and self-effacing speech, said at such a volume that it prompted stares and smiles from half the room.  She looked in vain to the rest of her family: her father watched with more amusement than anyone else, and her mother did not recognize at all the folly in Mr. Collins speech, but to the contrary commended him for his good sense.   She observed with some relief that the entire affaire had escaped the notice of Bingley and Jane. The insolent smiles of his sisters made clear that the ladies had noticed all. To Elizabeth it appeared that, had her family made an agreement to expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit or finer success.  

Not even returning her attention to Jane brought relief, for she saw to her surprise that Jane was dancing with Mr. Darcy.  Her mother had also noticed this.

“Why is that disagreeable man dancing with Jane?  I’m sure I don’t know why he insists on staying here at all.  I wish he would stop imposing himself on poor Mr. Bingley, and return to London, and make his friends there put up with all his great pride.  Jane wants nothing to do with  _ him _ .  She had much better be dancing with Mr. Bingley.”  

“Do be reasonable, madam.  Mr. Darcy is Mr. Bingley’s friend, and you know Jane can not stand up with Mr. Bingley for every dance.”  But Elizabeth realized with much chagrin that her own thoughts had not been much kinder.  Jane smiled serenely.  Jane’s manners would never allow her to show displeasure in a dance partner, even if her goodness would permit her such uncharitable feelings.  It was with an uncomfortable feeling that Elizabeth compared her own actions that evening to those of her dearest sister.

Distracted as she was by these thoughts, she barely noticed the persevering attentions of Mr. Collins.  His presence prevented her from dancing for the rest of the evening, but as her preoccupation would hardly be on the steps in any event, it was not a great loss. 

The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone, which gave them time to see how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst and her sister scarcely opened their mouths, except to complain of fatigue, and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing threw a languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality and politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy said nothing at all, but occasionally glanced towards the stairs. Elizabeth said no more than Mr. Darcy, and looked frequently to the door, not knowing which gentleman’s presence she was more desirous of escaping..  Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the scene.  Mary had produced a book, and was studiously reading.  Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached from the rest, and talked only to each other.  Even Lydia was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation of “Lord, how tired I am!” accompanied by a violent yawn.

When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn, and addressed herself especially to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time, without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity of waiting on her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged to go the next day for a short time.

Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied, and quitted the house under the delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure. Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.


	5. Chapter 5

George Wickham was a man who greatly enjoyed good food and company, and it was with much regret that he judged it necessary to avoid the Netherfield ball.  Though of trade a soldier, his true talent lay in a drawing or ballroom, where his quick wit, handsome appearance, happy manners, and, most recently, his true desire to provide pleasure to others as well as himself, made him the perfect addition to any party.  This last quality was the deciding push behind his absence at the ball.  Any encounter between Mr. Darcy and himself would bring little enjoyment to anyone involved.  Mr. Darcy had made it quite clear that he had no desire to ever see him again, a sentiment for which Wickham could not blame him.  If he had known Darcy to be in the neighborhood he would not have joined the militia stationed there, but once he had, he could not leave.  But as he and Darcy did not frequent the same social circles, and the War Office would surely soon send the ————————shire militia to enliven some new unexpecting village, the best course of action would be to avoid any unnecessary encounters with the gentleman.

The decision made, he had only to explain his absence to Denny.  He was thankful then for the business he had in town.  Denny was a friendly man, but he had no desire to confide in him, and a necessary trip to London offered a convenient excuse.  Denny had witnessed their encounter earlier that week, and not being a fool, suspected some story worthy of gossip, but as Wickham had resolutely refused to say more than that Mr. Darcy and he had know each other, but had had a falling out, Denny had moved on to easier grounds for amusement.  Thus, though Wickham did not think he entirely believed him, Denny let him go without question.

Wickham had rode into town, and paid back some of the debts he had amassed since the last time Darcy had intervened.  The militia did not pay generously, but Wickham had found that restraint in his cards and drink had lightened his expenses and consequently enlarged his purse.  His debts of honour had been the first to be attended to, and then his creditors among various merchants and tavern keepers in London.  He would eventually need to pay Darcy for all the debts that he had bought over the years, but, he reasoned, Darcy did not suffer for lack of funds, and might presently prefer to never recover the money than to have to deal with Wickham again.  He calculated that in a few years he would be able to set aside money for himself, and perhaps, a future family.  These happy musings were brought to an end when Wickham had to pull his horse to the side to allow a carriage and two riders to pass.  Distracted as he had been, he had not recognised the riders until they were too close for him to turn away.  The encounter was unavoidable. But, when it was over, the substance of it did not fulfill the uncomfortable apprehensions which it excited. Mr. Darcy barely acknowledged him.  Mr. Bingley, who Wickham had gathered to be a congenial, cheerful man, looked morosely and determinedly away from his friend.  The parties passed each other without the exchange of any words.


	6. Chapter 6

_(Pride and Prejudice Chapter 21)_

The morning following the Netherfield ball Mr. Collins requested a private interview with the fair Miss Elizabeth, and all of Mrs. Bennet's desires for her least favorite daughter were promised to be fulfilled. But Mrs. Bennet's joy was not to last. Before she had even begun to plan her triumphal campaign across the neighborhood to spread news of the engagement, all happiness was rudely extinguished by a steadfast and unequivocal refusal on the part of the lady. In vain did Mrs. Bennet remonstrate with and rail against her recalcitrant daughter. Mr. Bennet's refusal to make his daughter act sensibly, and Mr. Collins's disinclination, upon further reflection, to push his suit, obliterated any remaining hope of seeing Elizabeth as the next mistress of Longbourn.

Mrs. Bennet did not quickly forgive, and the following day the sisters found in a walk to Meryton the double benefit of an escape from their mother's ill-humour and an opportunity to enquire after Mr. Wickham. The gentleman joined them on their entering the town, and attended them to their aunt's where their regret and concern for his absence was well talked over. He expressed his regret for missing an opportunity to dance with all of the ladies, but assured everyone that his business in town had been necessary and satisfactorily accomplished. To Elizabeth, however, he voluntarily acknowledged that the necessity of his absence had been self-imposed.

"I had determined not to compel Mr. Darcy to see me," said he, "for it would be unpleasant for him, and scenes might arise unpleasant to more than those directly involved. As we rarely move in the same circles, it should not be too great of a sacrifice. Although I do regret missing the ball at Netherfield, I do not expect there to be another event to which we are both invited. In any case, the precaution seems to no longer be necessary."

"What do you mean?" she queried, "It is surely too much to hope that that there has been a rapprochement between you?"

"Oh, nothing of the sort!" said the gentlemen with a wry smile. "But as his entire party has left the country, there is no fear of future unpleasantness."

"You are mistaken, for it was only Mr. Bingley who was to go to town, and only for a short time; some matters of business, I believe."

"The plans must have changed: I crossed paths with them early this morning on the road from London. I wonder if some misfortune has befallen them. Mr. Bingley looked quite despondent."

As neither had any more information, the subject was confined to speculation, and discussed with all the extravagant gloom such a sunny day permitted. Jane was concerned for her friends, and hoped that nothing too very important was amiss. The younger girls saw in the sudden departure the possibility of some exciting story to be gossiped over, and thought with no little satisfaction that they had surely learned of it before any other family in the neighborhood.

"Perhaps," suggested Kitty with great animation, "they have discovered some long lost family member, or inherited a great fortune! Would that not be romantic?"

"Mr. Bingley already has a great fortune," objected Lydia. "He has no need to inherit another. I'm sure it is some scandal, and we will all hear about it very soon."

"Oh yes, it would be quite inconsiderate of him to inherit a second fortune. He had much better leave it to someone else." declared Elizabeth with as serious a face as she could muster.

Mr. Wickham's forbearance, which Elizabeth had been prepared to highly approve of, was forgotten in the excitement, but eventually the subject of the Bingley party's sudden departure was exhausted, and Mr. Wickham enquired after the rest of their family, mentioning Miss Mary Bennet by name.

"Oh, Mary never comes on walks with us" said Lydia. "She is always pounding away on the piano, or reading her boring old books. Although I half expected her to come with us today, for the house is in such an uproar over Mr. Collins' proposal."

"Lydia!" admonished Jane, "that is a private affair, and as it has had no positive outcome, should not be discussed in public."

"Well she almost did come" insisted Lydia, "when we mentioned it was to see Mr Wickham."

Mr. Wickham, seeing that the elder sisters were very desirous of a change of subject, suggested that he and another officer that was with him might walk back with them to Longbourn. The idea was readily accepted, as it had the added advantage of providing an occasion to introduce him to their father and mother.

Mrs. Bennet experienced such a rapid chain of emotions as is rarely seen. From peevish anger at Elizabeth, to joy at gentlemen callers accompanying her daughters, to despair at the news of the departure of the Netherfield party, the transformations were as sudden as they were enthusiastically expressed.

As the party entered the sitting room and tea was ordered, Mrs. Bennet bewailed it as exceedingly unlucky that the ladies should happen to go away just as they were all getting so intimate together. After lamenting it, however, at some length, she had the consolation that Mr. Bingley would be soon down again and soon dining at Longbourn, and the conclusion of all was the comfortable declaration, that though he had been invited only to a family dinner, she would take care to have two full courses.

Soon after, the mystery of the Bingley's departure was resolved for at least one of the party by a letter delivered to Miss Bennet; it came from Netherfield. The envelope contained a sheet of elegant, little, hot-pressed paper, well covered with a lady's fair, flowing hand; and Elizabeth saw her sister's countenance change as she read it, and saw her dwelling intently on some particular passages. Jane recollected herself soon, and putting the letter away, tried to join with her usual cheerfulness in the general conversation; but Elizabeth felt an anxiety on the subject which drew off her attention; and no sooner had Mr. Wickham and his companion taken leave, than a glance from Jane invited her to follow her up stairs. When they had gained their own room, Jane, taking out the letter, said:

"This is from Caroline Bingley; it confirms that with which Mr. Wickham had acquainted us. The whole party have left Netherfield by this time, and are on their way to town. I am relieved to report that there has not, as we feared, been any great misfortunes. She attributes the return to a desire that Mr. Bingley not spend the evenings alone in a hotel while he attends to his business."

"That is reassuring news. But, forgive me, Jane, I do not believe that was all the letter contained. You looked disquieted when you first read it."

"Yes, there is more. None of the party has any intention of coming back again. You shall hear what she says."

She then read the first sentence aloud,soon reaching the part with had clearly caused her distress. "Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister; and, to confess the truth, we are scarcely less eager to meet her again. I really do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments; and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of her being hereafter our sister. I do not know whether I ever before mentioned to you my feelings on this subject; but I will not leave the country without confiding them, and I trust you will not esteem them unreasonable. My brother admires her greatly already; he will have frequent opportunity now of seeing her on the most intimate footing; her relations all wish the connection as much as his own; and a sister's partiality is not misleading me, I think, when I call Charles most capable of engaging any woman's heart. With all these circumstances to favour an attachment, and nothing to prevent it, am I wrong, my dearest Jane, in indulging the hope of an event which will secure the happiness of so many?"

"What do you think of this sentence, my dear Lizzy?" said Jane as she finished it. "Is it not clear enough? Does it not expressly declare that Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister; that she is perfectly convinced of her brother's indifference; and that if she suspects the nature of my feelings for him, she means (most kindly!) to put me on my guard? Can there be any other opinion on the subject?"

"Yes, there can; for mine is totally different. Will you hear it?"

"Most willingly."

"You shall have it in a few words. Miss Bingley sees that her brother is in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him to town in hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he does not care about you. Mr. Bingley, we know from Mr. Wickham, was not happy to return to town"

Jane shook her head.

"Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me. No one who has ever seen you together can doubt his affection. Miss Bingley, I am sure, cannot. She is not such a simpleton. Could she have seen half as much love in Mr. Darcy for herself, she would have ordered her wedding clothes. But the case is this: We are not rich enough or grand enough for them; and she is the more anxious to get Miss Darcy for her brother, from the notion that when there has been one intermarriage, she may have less trouble in achieving a second; in which there is certainly some ingenuity. But, my dearest Jane, you cannot seriously imagine that because Miss Bingley tells you her brother greatly admires Miss Darcy, he is in the smallest degree less sensible of your merit than when he took leave of you on Tuesday, or that it will be in her power to persuade him that, instead of being in love with you, he is very much in love with her friend. I do not doubt that she tried. A quarrel on the subject seems the most likely explanation for Mr. Bingley's unhappiness."

"If we thought alike of Miss Bingley," replied Jane, "your representation of all this might make me quite easy. But I know the foundation is unjust. Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving anyone; and all that I can hope in this case is that she is deceiving herself."

"That is right. You could not have started a more happy idea, since you will not take comfort in mine. Believe her to be deceived, by all means. You have now done your duty by her, and must fret no longer."

"But, my dear sister, can I be happy, even supposing the best, in accepting a man whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry elsewhere?"

"You must decide for yourself," said Elizabeth; "and if, upon mature deliberation, you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters is more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, I advise you by all means to refuse him."

"How can you talk so?" said Jane, faintly smiling. "You must know that though I should be exceedingly grieved at their disapprobation, I could not hesitate."

"I did not think you would; and that being the case, I cannot consider your situation with much compassion."

"But if he returns no more this winter, my choice will never be required. A thousand things may arise in six months!"

The idea of his returning no more Elizabeth treated with the utmost contempt. It appeared to her merely the suggestion of Caroline's interested wishes, and she could not for a moment suppose that those wishes, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man so totally independent of everyone.

She represented to her sister as forcibly as possible what she felt on the subject, and had soon the pleasure of seeing its happy effect. Jane's temper was not desponding, and she was gradually led to hope, though the diffidence of affection sometimes overcame the hope, that Bingley would return to Netherfield and answer every wish of her heart.

They agreed that Mrs. Bennet need not be told of the family's intention to stay in town, and only be reassured on the reason for their departure.


	7. Chapter 7

The following day Elizabeth was unable to escape her mother and her cousin entirely, but as the Bennets were engaged to dine with the Lucases, their attention to her was somewhat diluted.  In fact Mr. Collins was distracted for the chief of the day by his conversations with Miss Lucas. Elizabeth, though thankful for this kindness from her friend, could not imagine the extent of her service: her design was to permanently secure her from Mr. Collins’s addresses, by engaging them towards herself. Her skeme was so successful that Mr. Collins returned to Lucas lodge early the next morning, and left an engaged man.  Charged by Charlotte to keep their engagement a secret until she could herself give the news to Elizabeth, Mr. Collins said nothing of it to the Bennets, but that evening did eagerly accept Mrs. Bennet’s polite invitation to visit again.

“My dear madam,” he replied, “this invitation is particularly gratifying, because it is what I have been hoping to receive; and you may be very certain that I shall avail myself of it as soon as possible.”

They were all astonished; and Mr. Bennet, who could by no means wish for so speedy a return, immediately said:

“But is there not danger of Lady Catherine’s disapprobation here, my good sir? You had better neglect your relations than run the risk of offending your patroness.”

“My dear sir,” replied Mr. Collins, “I am particularly obliged to you for this friendly caution, and you may depend upon my not taking so material a step without her ladyship’s concurrence.”

“You cannot be too much upon your guard. Risk anything rather than her displeasure; and if you find it likely to be raised by your coming to us again, which I should think exceedingly probable, stay quietly at home, and be satisfied that _we_ shall take no offence.”

“Believe me, my dear sir, my gratitude is warmly excited by such affectionate attention; and depend upon it, you will speedily receive from me a letter of thanks for this, and for every other mark of your regard during my stay in Hertfordshire. As for my fair cousins, though my absence may not be long enough to render it necessary, I shall now take the liberty of wishing them health and happiness, not excepting my cousin Elizabeth.”

With proper civilities the ladies then withdrew; all of them equally surprised that he meditated a quick return. Mrs. Bennet wished to understand by it that he thought of paying his addresses to one of her younger girls, and began to consider the merits of forwarding a match with Mary.  She had been the most attentive to his short reading of Fordyce’s sermons, and interest in the study of morals, though not generally useful in the acquisition of a husband, might be of some use to the wife of a clergyman.

The reason for Mr. Collins’s desire of such speedy a repeat of his visit to Longbourn was soon revealed to Elizabeth.  Miss Lucas called soon after breakfast, and in a private conference related the event of the day before.

The possibility of Mr. Collins’s fancying himself in love with her friend had once occurred to Elizabeth within the last day or two; but that Charlotte could encourage him seemed almost as far from possibility as she could encourage him herself, and her astonishment was consequently so great as to overcome at first the bounds of decorum, and she could not help crying out:

“Engaged to Mr. Collins! My dear Charlotte—impossible!”

The steady countenance which Miss Lucas had commanded in telling her story, gave way to a momentary confusion here on receiving so direct a reproach; though, as it was no more than she expected, she soon regained her composure, and calmly replied:

“Why should you be surprised, my dear Eliza? Do you think it incredible that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman’s good opinion, because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?”

But Elizabeth had now recollected herself, and making a strong effort for it, was able to assure with tolerable firmness that the prospect of their relationship was highly grateful to her, and that she wished her all imaginable happiness.

“I see what you are feeling,” replied Charlotte. “You must be surprised, very much surprised—so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you. But when you have had time to think it over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know; I never was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins’s character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state.”

Elizabeth quietly answered “Undoubtedly;” and after an awkward pause, they returned to the rest of the family. Charlotte did not stay much longer, and Elizabeth was then left to reflect on what she had heard. It was a long time before she became at all reconciled to the idea of so unsuitable a match. The strangeness of Mr. Collins’s making two offers of marriage within three days was nothing in comparison of his being now accepted. She had always felt that Charlotte’s opinion of matrimony was not exactly like her own, but she had not supposed it to be possible that, when called into action, she would have sacrificed every better feeling to worldly advantage. Charlotte the wife of Mr. Collins was a most humiliating picture! And to the pang of a friend disgracing herself and sunk in her esteem, was added the distressing conviction that it was impossible for that friend to be tolerably happy in the lot she had chosen.

There was some fear that Mr. Collins’s departure would provide an increase of energy with which Mrs. Bennet could regret the absence of another gentlemen of their acquaintance, but the concern proved unnecessary.  Distracting Mrs. Bennet’s imagination from the temporary loss of Mr. Bingley proved easier than either sister had expected, thanks to two developments with equal potential to excite their mother’s nerves: the possible gain of a new potential suitor for one of her daughters, and the the unequivocal loss of a suitor for another.  Suspicion of the former development had arisen the morning after Mr. Collins’s departure, when Mr. Wickham had, for the second time that week, called on her daughters quite as early as was respectable. Never slow to see a potential son in law, Mrs. Bennet had determined that such marked civility must be evidence of his partiality for one of her daughters.  It only remained to determine which one. Her eldest she considered as all but married already, and she was much too cross with Lizzy to imagine her deserving of such a handsome red coat, but Kitty and Lydia were both cheerful, pretty girls, and Mrs. Bennet was confident that, if she could only keep Mary and her dull remarks from boring Mr. Wickham excessively, he would offer for one of her youngest before the end of the winter.  

It was with this in mind that she called Mary away from her conversation with the gentleman with an authoritative “Come Mary, I need you.”  When Mary had approached, she continued in a shrill whisper that was, despite its intentions, heard by all in the room: “Mr. Wickham has no interest in your books, Mary.  You had much better leave him to converse with your sisters. _They_ will not bore him.”

The room was spared the necessity of responding to this by the welcome interruption of Hill, come to introduce Sir Lucas.  The gentleman arrived with tidings of the second distraction to Mrs. Bennet, in the form of news of the engagement of his daughter and Mr. Collins.  With many compliments to them, and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the houses, he unfolded the matter—to an audience not merely wondering, but incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than politeness, protested he must be entirely mistaken; and Lydia, always unguarded and often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed:

“Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story? Do not you know that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?”

Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne without anger such treatment; but Sir William’s good breeding carried him through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the most forbearing courtesy.

Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte herself; and endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of her mother and sisters by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir William, in which she was readily joined by Jane and Mr. Wickham, and by making a variety of remarks on the happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London.  Mary soon added an observation on the appropriateness of marriage to prevent sin and to provide mutual society, help, and comfort, and reflected that as the wife of a clergyman Charlotte would have the additional advantage of being in a position most conducive to providing assistance and comfort to the less fortunate. Thanks to these efforts, Sir Lucas was able to leave with the assurance that his news was believed and regarded, at least by some of his neighbors, as not wholly unfortunate.


	8. Chapter 8

Mrs. Bennet was too much overpowered to say a great deal while Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelings found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Collins had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they would never be happy together; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole: one, that Elizabeth was the real cause of the mischief; and the other that she herself had been barbarously misused by them all; and on these two points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could console and nothing could appease her. Nor did that day wear out her resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Elizabeth without scolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to Sir William or Lady Lucas without being rude, and many months were gone before she could at all forgive their daughter.

Mr. Bennet's emotions were much more tranquil on the occasion, and such as he did experience he pronounced to be of a most agreeable sort; for it gratified him, he said, to discover that Charlotte Lucas, whom he had been used to think tolerably sensible, was as foolish as his wife, and more foolish than his daughter!

Jane confessed herself a little surprised at the match; but she said less of her astonishment than of her earnest desire for their happiness; nor could Elizabeth persuade her to consider it as improbable. Kitty and Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news to spread at Meryton.  Mary might have felt some regret had not her attention been on a gentleman who, while less eligible than her cousin, was vastly more likable.

Lady Lucas could not be insensible of triumph on being able to retort on Mrs. Bennet the comfort of having a daughter well married; and she called at Longbourn rather oftener than usual to say how happy she was, though Mrs. Bennet's sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been enough to drive happiness away.

Mrs. Bennet’s sufferings on account of Elizabeth must excuse her negligence in the affairs of her middle daughter.  No other circumstance could have prevented her from detecting Mr. Wickham’s partiality for any of her daughters, even Mary.  But it was perhaps for the best, and Mary and Wickham were able to advance their friendship without discussions of wedding clothes and available estates.  Mary, unused to being singled out above her sisters, at first received Mr. Wickham’s attentions with equal gratification and suspicion, but before long his consistency convinced her of his sincerity.

Mr. Wickham's society was of material service also to the other Bennets.  His presence was Mrs. Bennet’s only solace, and he proved adept at turning her thoughts from the gloom of lost suitors to the more happy topics of ribbons, lace, and gossip, a talent that was appreciated even more by her husband and older daughters than by herself.  Elizabeth enjoyed his quick wit and good humour, as did Mr. Bennet. His enjoyment of Mr. Wickham’s conversation was only surpassed by his appreciation of the respite from his wife’s complaints and lamentations that Mr. Wickham provided. For Kitty and Lydia it was enough that he wore a red coat, and Jane had found in him a kindred spirit since his first defense of Mr. Darcy’s character.  

On the question of Mr. Darcy’s, and by extension Mr. Bingley’s character, Mr. Wickham remained firm, though his continued absence without any news of his return caused Elizabeth to question Mr. Bingley’s intentions and Mr. Darcy’s involvement.  Day after day passed away without bringing any other tidings of him than the report which shortly prevailed in Meryton of his coming no more to Netherfield the whole winter; a report which highly incensed Mrs. Bennet, and which she never failed to contradict as a most scandalous falsehood.  Elizabeth began to fear—not that Bingley was indifferent—but that his sisters would be successful in keeping him away. Unwilling as she was to admit an idea so destructive of Jane's happiness, and so dishonorable to the stability of her lover, she could not prevent its frequently occurring. The united efforts of his two unfeeling sisters and of his overpowering friend, assisted by the attractions of Miss Darcy and the amusements of London might be too much, she feared, for the strength of his attachment.

As for Jane,  _ her _ anxiety under this suspense was, of course, more painful than Elizabeth's, but whatever she felt she was desirous of concealing, and between herself and Elizabeth, therefore, the subject was never alluded to. But as no such delicacy restrained her mother, an hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express her impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he did not come back she would think herself very ill used. It needed all Jane's steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable tranquillity.

Mr. Collins returned most punctually on Monday fortnight, but his reception at Longbourn was not quite so gracious as it had been on his first introduction. He was too happy, however, to need much attention; and luckily for the others, the business of love-making relieved them from a great deal of his company. The chief of every day was spent by him at Lucas Lodge, and he sometimes returned to Longbourn only in time to make an apology for his absence before the family went to bed.

Mrs. Bennet was really in a most pitiable state. The very mention of anything concerning the match threw her into an agony of ill-humour, and wherever she went she was sure of hearing it talked of. The sight of Miss Lucas was odious to her. As her successor in that house, she regarded her with jealous abhorrence. Whenever Charlotte came to see them, she concluded her to be anticipating the hour of possession; and whenever she spoke in a low voice to Mr. Collins, was convinced that they were talking of the Longbourn estate, and resolving to turn herself and her daughters out of the house, as soon as Mr. Bennet were dead. She complained bitterly of all this to her husband.

“Indeed, Mr. Bennet,” said she, “it is very hard to think that Charlotte Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that I should be forced to make way for  _ her _ , and live to see her take her place in it!”

“My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor.”

This was not very consoling to Mrs. Bennet, and therefore, instead of making any answer, she went on as before.

“I cannot bear to think that they should have all this estate. If it was not for the entail, I should not mind it.”

“What should not you mind?”

“I should not mind anything at all.”

“Let us be thankful that you are preserved from a state of such insensibility.”

“I never can be thankful, Mr. Bennet, for anything about the entail. How anyone could have the conscience to entail away an estate from one's own daughters, I cannot understand; and all for the sake of Mr. Collins too! Why should  _ he _ have it more than anybody else?”

“I leave it to yourself to determine,” said Mr. Bennet.


End file.
